The Refugees
by Amore Di Scrittura
Summary: Sam and Dean become unwilling participants in a derranged mans attempt at bringing something corrupt and evil back from the depths of hell. Now Dean has to find a way to keep Sam from becoming the sacrificial lamb.
1. Teaser

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Well hello fellow Supernatural fans.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything Supernatural... I just like to create fantasy worlds that the boy's can play in.

**Summary**: Sam and Dean becoming unwilling participants in a derranged mans attempt at bringing something corrupt and evil back from the depths of hell and now Dean has to find a way to keep Sam from becoming the sacrificial lamb.

**Warnings**: There is a fair amount of violence and cussing through the duration of this story.

**Notes**: I do like putting Sam in peril... so hope you don't mind.

Enjoy:

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**The Refugees**

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**Teaser/backround:**

"Are you okay Sammy?" Dean voiced hoarsely through the darkness of his blindfold. The older brother had to take quick, short, gasps to accommodate the burning in stomach.

There was a distant grunting sound that had Dean heaving in relief. But before Dean could tell his little brother how he was faring himself, he was grabbed strongly by the back of his neck and his head was jerked back.

"Would you really have me rip your little brother's throat out," the voice snarled sarcastically.

Dean bit back a bitter comment for fearing his brother would get another beating for his words and he chose wisely to state a simple, "No."

For once, Dean wished he'd listened to Sam and waited until the morning to leave the Impala and start searching for a goblin-like creature that had found its way to America from the English Isles. But as stubborn as he was he insisted that since they had made such great time getting there that they should just get started.

The younger brother knew that Dean's ideas weren't always safe and rational but Sam couldn't remember any other way Dean had ever done them anyway.

The two headstrong brothers had started out, each with a shotgun hoisted over their shoulders, a knife at their ankle, and a gun at their waists. Both Sam and Dean had been raised for this and both were too stubborn to give it a rest. At least not yet.

Dean believed himself to be the one man army, and Sam, well, he was the follower and the guilty party should he end up in the damsels position.

Tonight, they'd both been caught unaware, a hunters most fatal mistake. Amongst the dark foliage where they'd hidden when they believed they had located the Boggle was when they were taken by surprise.

Sam had been the first to be smashed in the back of the head. The hit hadn't knocked him unconscious and he had been able to shout out a warning for Dean to run. The younger brother knew it was hopeless to tell Dean to leave him. That was never going to happen, the bond between brothers would have kept Dean from fleeing without Sam, and he was right.

Dean had called his name urgently and had blown his own cover as he broke through the bush he'd been sitting in and searched for his brother with his flashlight. But it had been too late by then; Sam had been knocked around again until he'd closed his eyes. Dean following minutes later.

When Sam had come around he realized their location had changed and he'd found himself lying about twenty feet away from his unconscious brother who lay face down in the clearing. They were both bound expertly, and their chance for escaping was extinguished.

In the dimness of the stars above him, Sam had seen the dark outlines of men. There must have been three of them… men that were no strangers to showing brutality to prisoners.

Sam had been pushed to his knees where these men took turns hitting and kicking him until both his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

Dean had to have come around somewhere in the middle of his beating, because Sam could distantly remember cursing that would have sent their own fathers hands to his ears.

Unfortunately the beating had picked up after that. These men didn't seem to like their mothers being called the colorful names Dean had spat in the rage to get them to stop beating up on his little brother.

The men had found a sure way to get Dean to act submissively… by using Sam as their pawn.

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TBC...


	2. Onward We Go

This was supposed to be done sooner... but what can I say, it's the summer and sometimes you just have to pace yourself right?

To the readers: I'm glad that this story generated some interest in some people ;D It's always nice to see what people think of what you've written right? I love the compliments and I thank all of my reviewers, you guys are my heroes and inspiration!

Enjoy:

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The Refugees

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Sam grunted again as a solid foot collided with his stomach.

It had to be the afternoon, the heat that made perspiration fall from his neck and face were a dead giveaway. The damn blindfold made it impossible for him to navigate the unfamiliar surroundings and every time he fell he'd be hit.

"Get up you damn clumsy fool," a dark voice sneered.

Sam was jerked back up to his feet and was pushed forward non-too gently. Sam grunted as the moment had him hitting into something on the ground that sent him sprawling once again to the rock covered dirt.

The young man breathed in heavily, dirt being kicked up in his heavy breathing to enter his nostrils. He wasn't surprised to be kicked in the side again. "Stop," he begged raggedly.

There was a haughty laugh before Sam's head was jerked back by his hair. "How about you get to your damn feet and keep walkin'. Then maybe I'll think about being a little nicer to you."

Sam then heard the distinct sound of a struggle and knew his blindfolded older brother was trying to break loose.

"Leave him alone you fucking sickos, or I swear to god I'll rip your throats out like pigs," Dean sneered unwilling to come to terms with the fact that he was the prisoner and definitely in no position to be making such commands.

Sam winced at the laughing that resounded from their captors as he was pulled to his feet and lead by a large hand that wrapped around his forearm. "Keep walkin'," the voice ordered.

The younger Winchester fought back a groan of despair. It was getting incredibly painful to do so. These men had beaten a lot of blood out of him and he wanted nothing more than to rest.

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The day had bore on and had been encompassed with long amounts walking until Sam's breathing had become horribly stinted and ragged. His chest felt as if his lungs would pop and lead to his impending doom.

"I nneed… tto… stttopp," he stuttered helplessly over his ragged breaths.

Dean knew that Sam's breaking point had come and gone. "Sam..."

"Keep moving," the voice ordered and pushed Sam in the back with his own shotgun.

"I ccan't," Sam admitted with a hint of disgust at himself for being so weak. He just wanted to lie down where these men couldn't touch him.

"Move," the voice got angrier and pushed Sam just a little harder, sending the young Winchester to his knees where he keeled over and breathed deeply into the little blades of grass.

"For fuck's sake," Dean growled. "Let him take a break. If you don't he's gonna be dead before the morning, and then I'll rip your throats out."

Something hard came down across Dean's head. The older brother lay tensely across the dirt ground and prayed that Sam would be spared even though his words were spiteful and would usually end up getting the younger Winchester a kick to the abdomen.

After a few minutes, there was quiet chatting for a moment; a language that Dean couldn't recognize had flittered into his ears when he'd listened intently for any word that his brother would be allowed to rest.

"Fine," the voice announced begrudgingly. "We'll stop for the night."

"We'll tie them to those trees for the night and then we'll head out in the morning," a less angry voice spoke deftly with determination. "We'll be to Loman in a matter of days."

Dean and a barely conscious Sam were dragged a ways until both were backed into the trunks of trees and tied to them.

It was a surprise when their blindfolds had been taken off, and Dean realized they were just meant to not see the way they'd come. That meant that even if they did escape, they'd be running around the forest like chickens with their heads cut off.

Dean's first glimpse of his brother had his stomach turning. "Sam? Hey Sammy are you still with me?"

"It's Sam," the small voice corrected.

Dean let out a little huff of a laugh. "Not to me Sammy, never to me." He could only imagine how Sam was taking the rare bonding they were sharing in there predicament.

There was a long pause. "How're you feeling kid?" Dean turned and looked at his brother, whose head was hanging down against his chest.

"Like I just went a few rounds with Ali," Sam mumbled through his swollen lips. He could hear his brother laugh softly and it made him feel a little better in his precarious position. "Who are these guys?"

Dean took in a breath and looked at the men in the distance who were circled around their warm fire and talking to each other jovially. "I have no idea but when I get my hands on them…"

Dean could hear Sam laughing at that and knew the sarcasm that it was laced with. "What?" Dean asked through gritted teeth as he tried breaking free from his bonds. "You don't think I can do it."

"I never said that," Sam retorted with a wet cough. "I mean obviously you have a masterful plan that it going to get us the hell out of here and off of this mountain right?"

"… yeah," Dean mumbled at the mockery.

"After all that training." Sam groaned. "If dad could see us now…"

"He'd skin us both," Dean replied knowingly.

"Shut up over there," one of the men ordered as he stared at the two immobile brothers. "Or I'll make sure neither of you can speak, got it?"

The man must have taken their silence as a confirmation because he turned back around to the fire and continued talking to his fellow friends.

"I bet they're cannibals," Dean predicted. He knew Sam would be wincing at the thought of being eaten. "Though these guy are a hell lot uglier than a Wendigo."

Sam snorted and let out a soft laugh, breathing shallowly so his chest didn't feel like it was going to explode from the pain radiating from his sore chest and stomach. "Definitely."

"Who do you think they'll eat first? You or me?"

Sam turned his head slightly to glance at his older brother. "You really think they're going to eat us?"

Dean squinted one eye, looking as if he was really thinking about it. "They'd eat you first." Dean turned and looked at his brother who staring at him as if he'd gone crazy.

Sam smiled. Dean was just trying to get his mind off of their problems, and _his_ pains. "Not either. You're pudgier… if anything I'd be desert."

Dean huffed, spared a glance at Sam. His brother looked like shit, his face was swollen, and his lips were bleeding and chapped… Dean didn't want to think about the colors his brother's chest would be sporting. "Get some sleep Sam."

"What if I have a concussion and never wake up again," Sam inquired softly.

_Maybe it'd be for the best Sammy._ "You will, I'll make sure you do."

Sam chose not respond to his brother's last comment, and let his chin drift back down to rest against his chest. The pain was dulling, and Sam knew it either had to do with the amount of blood he was losing, or the shock that was undoubtedly emanating from his body. "We'll be okay," he mumbled softly before his eyes closed.

_We'll be okay…_ Dean closed his eyes softly. Sam always had a way of comforting him, even if the words were corny and way out of line. Who knew Sam was such an internal optimist… especially since it was his ass being kicked and not Dean's.

When Dean was sure that Sam was asleep, he allowed himself to settle up against the rough bark at his back. He tipped his head back and looked up towards the stars. "We need your help dad."

Sometime in the middle of the night, Dean drifted off… a rare prayer in his mind.

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"Wakey, wakey," a cynical voice chirped all too enthusiastically. "It's time to go."

Dean slowly peeled his tired eyelids open. He groaned at the small aches and pains in his body and wondered how crappy Sam would possibly be feeling this morning. … Sam

"Sam," Dean mumbled lethargically. He turned his head to right to see how his brother was fairing.

The older Winchester's eyes went wide. Sam's entire upper half was hanging forward limply by the bonds in his sitting position. The other two men were kneeling down in front of him. One grabbed Sam by the hair, and lifted his head to get a better look at him.

"Is he even breathing?"

The one by Dean glared menacingly over at the little group of three. "He better be, or Loman 'l use one of you morons for the sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" Dean questioned softly. His eyes shot back over to his brother who was being cut from the tree. He winced when Sam's body just fell forward and plopped against the dirt ground.

"Sammy," he called out to his little brother.

Sam didn't move.

"Turn him over," the leader ordered.

Sam was rolled onto his back and his examination began.

The leader lifted one of his eyelids and looked into the glazed green eyes. "He's breathing," he announced and the other two breathed out identical sighs of relief. "Maybe the kid just needs to be shocked awake. Get me a canteen."

When the water bottle was settled in his hand, the man quickly unscrewed the top of it. He kneeled down beside Sam and tilted the bottle until a fine trickle of water landed on Sam's face.

The reaction was instantaneous. Sam jerked from the coldness of the water and sputtered as the thick water entered his nostrils and impaired his breathing. His sudden jostling caused his stomach to curl in pain and he had no choice but to roll on his side and vomit.

"Whew, that's disgusting," one of the men blurted as he covered his nose to block out the acrid smell.

The leader laughed at his helpless prisoner. "You feel better now boy?"

Sam breathed hard. His surroundings were blurred and the voices were jumbled and mixed together as if everything was put in slow motion. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was, but when the memories came back, he wished he couldn't remember. "Dean…" he mumbled almost incoherently.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. He couldn't get a good view of his brother; the damn men were blocking his view.

"Your friend is fine," the leader told him, sitting him up harshly so he could see Sam staring at him with confused eyes.

Dean looked relieved, and the emotion confused Sam even more.

"Boy's, go tie up his pall so we can get the hell out of here and up to the cabin before nightfall."

The orders were carried out quickly, and Dean was on his feet, hands bound tightly behind his back. But this time his blindfold was forgotten, and he couldn't have been more grateful. Now he could keep a vigil on his brother.

The men didn't even bother tying Sam up. They just kept on of their men beside him, holding onto his forearm incase his legs managed to gain enough strength to try a foolish escape.

"You can't drag him around the mountains for another day and expect him to live," Dean began his desperate attempt for them to leave Sam behind.

"Then he'll die," the leader spat.

They all kept their pace, Sam and his last man pacing them a few feet behind the group. The kid probably wouldn't last too much longer and would need to be carried. A job that he was reserving for the kids friend.

The tall skinny kid was who they needed for the sacrifice; it was his build and his energy that had caught their eyes a couple nights before. But he was not going to let on that to the kid's accomplice that he needed him alive. The prisoner would get the upper hand.

"What the hell were you boy's doing up here in the first place?" It was blatant curiosity. These boys didn't even have any camping equipment.

"I and my brother pulled over in my car for the night…" Dean didn't even know why he was answering this asshole. "We thought we heard something."

"Brothers? You boy's are brothers?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed and spared a look back to his brother who was now being supported around the waist by one of the men. "We're brothers."

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TBC...


End file.
